


Twelve Months

by Sushi



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sushi/pseuds/Sushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A look into Nikita and Michael's time in Division together.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. December

**Author's Note:**

> A look into Nikita and Michael's time in Division together.

Nikita drifted from the living room to the bedroom and back to the kitchen where Michael stood. The look of pure joy on her face filled Michael with satisfaction.

"I love it!" She twirled around and threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. The contact took them both by surprise and although neither could deny it felt incredible to hold each other, she pushed him gently and awkwardly away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drool on you." She said mischievously, lowering her eyes and brushing the imaginary saliva off of his lapel.

"Apology accepted." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, feeling slightly uneasy. "Nikita, this is a big deal and a huge transition for you. You need to remember you're freedom comes second to Division's needs. It's the price you pay for this second chance."

"I know." She looked at him with a hint of sadness. Having finally been promoted to a Field Agent, she had been moved out of the sterile recruit room that had been home for over a year and given keys to a furnished apartment in the city. She didn't need to be reminded that freedom was an esoteric concept when you're part of a clandestine organization, but sometimes, she did need to be reminded, to stop wishing that pigs could fly.

The pensive look faded and suddenly her face lit up. "Are you hungry? I'm starved and I could make us some lunch in my brand new kitchen!"

Michael smiled at her enthusiasm and stifled a laugh when she opened the refrigerator door to find it empty. In the back of his mind, he knew it was a mistake, but he asked her anyway. "I tell you what, how about I buy you lunch. I know a place we can walk to."

Nikita told herself he was just being nice, but a thrill went through her. "All right, but only if we let Percy pay." She said with a glint in her eye.

He gave her a crooked smile, and she thought how sexy the little lines around his eyes were when he smiled. Michael held the door for her, and when they walked out into the cold winter air, tiny snowflakes floated in the air around them.

It was a little after two in the afternoon and the bulk of the lunch crowd at Matt's Grill had come and gone. The twinkling white lights around the windows and the old, rich decor was calm and inviting. Michael led her to a booth and they slipped into it. The waitress, an attractive older woman, with an infectious smile, took their order. She looked at Michael affectionately, he called her by name and she reciprocated

"You must be a regular here." Nikita murmured, looking around at the dark mahogany woodwork with it's aged patina and the well worn marble floor. The soft sound of Christmas music played in the background.

Michael nodded but said nothing more. He found himself staring at her and realized this was much different than the other times they shared a meal. They were here by choice, not by Percy's mandate and there was no Target to "deal with."

Nikita suddenly felt self-conscious, she sensed he was uncomfortable and that normal wasn't something either were used to. "So where do you live?" She blurted out trying to fill the silence between them.

Michael's eyes darkened and he shook his head. "You don't really need to know, besides I spend most of my days and nights at Division, it cuts down on commuting and is more efficient."

She knit her brow and wondered if she should feel sorry for him or be annoyed. "I thought you and Percy and Amanda shared an Ivory Tower, complete with a dragon guarding the gates." She muttered under her breath.

Michael looked as if he might say something, but the Waitress brought their lunch, a large salad for Nikita and a sandwich for Michael. Her eyes grew big and she looked pleased as she checked out the platter of crisp greens in front of her.

"Wow, this looks great!" She squeezed a wedge of lemon over the top and mixed the salad up with her fork before taking a huge bite.

Michael leaned forward and picked up the cold beer that had been placed in front of him and took a drink from it. He watched her, eat her salad with delight. Her dark hair shone in the light and she had a fresh and natural quality about her. The thought that she was a sweet, beautiful and very desirable woman, crossed his mind.

"You should eat too, never know when your phone will ring and we'll have to break into a building and steal secrets or cover up some unfortunate event." She said the word unfortunate with emphasis and attitude.

"Nikita, Percy and Amanda believe you're on your way to becoming an important asset to Division. Don't blow it by being cocky." He still felt this obligation to remind her not to become too full of herself.

Nikita looked him in the eye, being away from the oppressive environment known as Division, made her feel bold. "You're always so serious." She quipped.

He tilted his head at her, and gave her a smug look before picking up his sandwich, and taking a bite.

Their lunch time conversation was filled with current events, hot spots around the world and which terrorist marks the State Department were monitoring. It was interesting and amiable, the black ops version of small talk.

Nikita pushed her plate aside with a contented look and drank from her glass of iced tea. This is not a date, she told herself. We are colleagues and nothing more. She looked at Michael wistfully, she had grown to admire his scruffy good looks and loved his compassionate nature, but what she really wanted, was to know what made him tick.

When his phone began to buzz in his pocket, she gave him an _I told you so_ look. He picked up the call, and then abruptly told her. "I have to take this, I shouldn't be too long." He slid out of the booth and walked toward the back of the restaurant disappearing around a corner.

It has to be Division, she thought to herself. Who else would be calling? She picked up her glass of ice tea and used the straw to stir it. She could hear the cheerful sound of Santa Claus is Coming to Town coming out of the speakers.

The waitress came to the table and gave Nikita a friendly smile. "What happened to Michael, he didn't leave, did he?"

"No, he had to take a call. It's probably work, they're always bugging him." Nikita sounded apologetic. "So how do you know Michael?" She was always curious and looking for tidbits of information on her enigmatic mentor.

The older woman smiled at her. "One night about a year ago, a group of drunks were in the bar and hassling one of the waitresses. Matt, my husband, was tending bar and told them to leave and two of them jumped him. I got shoved around when I tried to hit one over the head with my tray. Michael comes out of no where, he'd been eating here on and off for a while, but we didn't know him, he really keeps to himself, and he took two of them down in about three seconds and broke the fingers on the guy that pushed me." She looked at Nikita with sincerity "He's one of the good guys." She broke out in a grin. "You must be special, he never brings anyone here."

The remark pleased Nikita, but also made her feel uncomfortable. "We just work together."

The waitress nodded her head and gave her a friendly but doubtful look before clearing the table. With her arms filled with empty plates, she turned to go to the kitchen and bumped into Michael as he walked back into the dining room. Nikita watched them exchange a few words and was surprised when the waitress gave him a peck on the cheek. Was Michael blushing?

Sliding back into the booth he was all business. "Nikita, you're being sent out on an op. You'll be Percy's escort for the evening at a business dinner."

Nikita shot him a cold look. "Sounds like fun, but could you say I'm his date instead of escort. I am not a call girl."

Michael looked a little troubled. "Try and remember, you're serving your country. You should be flattered, he and Amanda wouldn't have picked you if they didn't think you could stand up to Percy's colleagues. They need a beautiful woman to be a distraction."

It was Nikita's turn to blush, although she wasn't sure that was a compliment. "All right, where's the shindig going to be?" She tried not to sound too concerned.

"The Capitol Club in Washington, D.C. Amanda will brief you on the details." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a round compact, it was inlaid with mother of pearl, and he slid it across the table."

"It's beautiful." She took it from his hand and her fingers brushed against his palm sensuously. The compact glimmered in the dim light.

"Careful." He warned her with a hint of amusement.

When her finger found the tiny button on the side, she pressed it and and a very sharp blade shot out. "Beautiful, practical and deadly, too."

"Consider it an early Christmas present." He meant for it to sound like he was joking.

"Michael, you're much too good to me." She countered, but was a little taken aback when she saw the expression on his face. She wondered if it was her imagination or if what she saw in his eyes meant something.

"I'll walk you home." He muttered and abruptly looked away.

Nikita shook off the contrast in his behavior. "Home? I like the sound of that."

He helped her put on her coat, and before they left, he pulled two bills out of his wallet and left them on the table. She saw he left a very generous tip, and he smiled at the waitress, before they walked out of the restaurant together.


	2. January

"Mmmm, I have to say these little guys are really good!" Nikita held up an appetizer and bit into it and hummed with pleasure.

"That must be the brie and raspberry puff pastry." Birkhoff replied through the Com unit.

She tried to keep the incredulous but amused look off of her face. "How do you know this?" She whispered back.

"I hacked into the event planner's computer and the catering contract came up. Delicate and savory, served with tart apple slices and rosemary crackers." He said with an exaggerated drawl. Nikita could practically hear the smirk on his face.

"Sorry to interrupt this Bon Appetite moment." Michael's stern voice came on their Coms. "Nikita, have you spotted the Target?

Nikita sighed as she looked about. "Negative." The penthouse was palatial in size, a mere three thousand square feet containing two living rooms and two master suites, a den, four bathrooms and a catering kitchen. Approximately two hundred and fifty guests were in attendance, the men were elegantly attired and the women were dressed to be undressed. She searched their faces, but the Target was nowhere to be seen. "You're sure he's going to be here?"

"What better place to buy and sell government secrets than at a New Year's Eve Party?" Birkhoff said sarcastically.

Nikita stood at one end of the floor and continued to scan the crowd with little luck, but she did spy Michael at the far end of the room. It was rare moment, when she could observe him without someone in Division watching her, and she thought how handsome he looked in his tailored black tux. His eyes darted around as well than settled on a tastefully dressed woman with long blond hair. Nikita knew better than to be distracted in the middle of an operation but she felt a twinge of jealousy when the stranger walked up and placed her hand on his arm. She seemed to have garnered his complete attention.

She averted her gaze, shaking off the feeling of envy, until she looked up and saw the blond had moved on. Michael caught her eye, and when he gave her a reassuring look, it boosted her confidence.

It was New Year's Eve and even though this meant little to the other Agents, Nikita felt excited about the prospects. Somehow the passage of this year made her aware of how much she had changed. No longer the drug-addicted girl with a troubled past, she was a Division agent with full status. She had a new apartment, a new wardrobe and as everyone liked to remind her, a second chance. She was proud of the progress she made and she told herself, she was serving her country. Tonight, she felt exceptionally pretty, dressed in a short gold metallic dress with a beaded purse to conceal her weapon. Amanda had let her pick it out and even complimented her on the choice.

"Birkhoff." Michael's voice sounded unusually tense. "I don't like this, something's up. I want our people covering the egress points.

"Copy that. Okay, boys and girls…" Birkhoff boomed over the second Com frequency. "The Man says front, side and kitchen entrance. Any funny business, report to Michael and Nikita immediately. Capiche?"

"Copy that, I'm on my way to the main entrance." Roseanne replied first. She was dressed as a server, a silver tray of appetizers in her hand. The other one poised to reach for the weapon, tucked under her black apron.

"Copy that, I already have the side door covered." Hugo chimed in, also dressed as a server with a tray of champagne flutes balanced in one hand.

"Davis?" Birkhoff barked. "Agent Davis, report!" There was a pause before Birkhoff came back on. "Michael, Nikki, there may be a problem, Davis is off line. The kitchen entry is wide open."

"I got it," Nikita replied. Michael saw a flash of the gold fabric, as it disappeared through the entryway to the kitchen.

"Proceed with caution." There was a tinge of concern in Michael's voice that broke through his usual calculated tone.

Michael's eyes swept the room, carefully searching for the blackmailer and broker of stolen government intelligence. When a rail line had been sabotaged and corporate terrorism was linked back to him, Division had been brought in to deal with the situation.

Suddenly, the lights went out and threw the entire Penthouse into darkness. Above the din of alarmed voices, Michael cursed to himself.

"Birkhoff! What the hell is going on?" Michael growled. "Nikita, location?"

Nikita was silent.

"The main circuitry has been tampered with. Floor plans show it is out in hallway, it could have easily been done remotely."

"Roseanne and Hugo, stay where you are, when the lights come back on, make sure our Target doesn't get by you. Use force if necessary."

"Copy that." Both agents confirmed one after the other.

The hotel security staff asked everyone to stay calm, their flash light beams and a multitude of cell phones illuminated the room. Michael dodged the guests and headed toward the kitchen.

"Nikita?" Michael whispered through the Com, but there was only silence.

With his back to the wall, he edged his way to the doorway and was startled when the Chef and a steady stream of kitchen workers ran out. "Who's in there?" He demanded, stopping one of the men in a white smock.

"He's got a gun and my best fillet knife! One of the servers is… is dead." He choked the words out.

"Did you see a woman in there wearing a gold dress?" Michael demanded, but the kitchen worker only looked frightened and ran into the crowd.

Michael stole a glance inside the room. The only light came from the LCD controls on the commercial appliances and lit burners on the stove.

A man's voice came over their Coms, cutting through the dark. "Who wants to make a deal?"

Alarmed at hearing an intruder over their Com frequency, Michael gripped the .38 in is hand. "Stand down, I won't shoot, but no deal until I see you and your hands up." Michael growled.

The man replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I want immunity and in exchange I'll give you the real bad guys, my source and the buyer. They're the ones you should be after."

Michael scowled. "I don't make deals with traitors."

"Then you'll have to find me first." Suddenly the Com unit crackled loudly and went dead causing everyone on the frequency to cringe.

"Birkhoff? Whose unit went down?" Michael demanded.

"Nikki." Birkhoff said breathlessly. "It's Nikita's"

Michael felt his body tense when his worst fear was realized. He stepped into the entry with his weapon raised in front of him, poised to shoot, but there were only dark shadows to confront him.

"Nikita?" Michael murmured in a low hushed tone as he quietly walked through the kitchen, he jerked right and then left, searching in the darkness. A feeling of dread came over him when he saw her small purse laying on the floor. He knew this game of cat and mouse would end in bloodshed.

A whimpering sound compelled him to spin around and he peered through the darkness. He inched his way toward the distressed mewls and found her gagged and her wrists tied together. She hung from a metal hook that was attached to a stainless steel shelving unit. The overhead lights flickered and buzzed and he squinted as his eyes were assaulted by light. He blinked several times and then he saw the wild look in Nikita's eye as she called out through the cloth stuffed in her mouth. She kicked her legs out defiantly, and it took a split second for him to understand there was someone behind him. He turned and fired his weapon, the silencer muffled the bang. The Target was thrown back against another shelving unit and toppled over.

He turned toward Nikita and placed his hands on her waist, lifting her up so she could disengage her wrists. She slid down his body and he removed the napkin that had been used to gag her. Neither of them pulled away from each other.

"Birkhoff…" Michael spoke quietly. "Target is down. Send Roan in to clean the premise. Roseanne, meet us at the service elevator. Hugo, secure the kitchen door until the Cleaner arrives." He was all business, but there was a quiet edge to his voice.

"Michael?" Nikita gasped. "Davis is dead… He stabbed him, I should have taken him out… I hesitated and he threw a pot at me."

"Birkhoff, take me off frequency." Michael ordered.

"Affirmative," Birkhoff told him. "You have about two minutes before Roan shows."

Michael held her at arms length and looked down at her. "Nikita. Look at me. When you entered the kitchen to secure the entrance, Davis was already down." His voice was stern and commanding.

She nodded her head at him.

"The lights went out and he overpowered you in the dark. There was nothing you could do to stop him!" He stared at her. "Do you understand?"

"Michael, No, I should have taken the shot, but…"

"I said the lights went out and he overpowered you. When I came in you were able to signal me, and because of that, I took him down." Michael smoothed the hair away from her face. "That's the official story."

Nikita looked at him, first with confusion and then with gratitude when she realized he was protecting her. She leaned into him and he held her close.

Michael pressed the com unit in his ear. "Birkhoff, prepare for exfil."

Thirty minutes later, Roan was cleaning up the bodies, while the sounds of popping corks and Auld Lang Syne filled the air outside of the kitchen, and the party cheered in the New Year.


	3. February

Carly sprayed glass cleaner on the top of the jewelry case and wiped it down until it gleamed. She rearranged the row of designer watches and separated the styles to give the display a fresh look. Satisfied with the results, she moved on to the adjacent case that held a sweet assortment of gold and diamond charms to adorn one's wrist, neck or cell phone. They were intermixed with ruby and emerald studs, tear dropped earrings, some with opals, and some with jade and thick gold hoops. All were laid out on a bed of black velvet.

She walked over to the rack of leather coats and made sure they hung evenly, all of them were soft as butter and ranged from full-length dusters to cropped motorcycle jackets. Next, she refolded a stack of cashmere sweaters that were set out on a table and rearranged their color order. She dusted off the stands that held the stores inventory of shoes and boots, making a mental note to put some of the practical flats on clearance, making room for the painfully fashionable heels.

While she straightened up the rack of cocktail dresses, the door opened and a familiar looking customer came in. She gave her the warmest smile she could muster. The woman was in her mid to late twenties, very beautiful and extremely fit. She wore her chocolate colored hair long, it was smooth and shiny and she hid behind a pair of large aviator style dark glasses. When she removed the sunglasses, she could see she had an exotic look and a style about her that was elegant without being stuffy. She remembered she had been in twice before and the brands she wore were fashionable, high quality and expensive. Her demeanor was serious, her eyes darted around the store before she went to the case of watches and studied them with interest.

The first rule of retail is the customer is always to be treated like Royalty. She did her best to pick up on the nuances men and women display and use them to her advantage, to make a sale. The boutique had been successful, making payroll for the meager staff and managing to pull in a small but tidy profit.

"Let me know if I can show you anything." She knew attentive at a distance might be the right approach.

Nikita hooked her dark glasses onto the collar of her dress and smiled. Her face lit up when she saw the platinum bracelet watch with a small rectangular face, embellished with diamond chips.

"Thanks, that one is really pretty." She pointed to the stylized looking watch, it was bold but feminine.

The shop owner brought the item out and set it on top of the counter. "This watch doubles for jewelry, very elegant, but versatile enough to get you through an array of outfits. Here, try it on."

She fingered the large links on the band before, slipping it on her small wrist. "It's a little big."

"No worries, I can adjust the clasp and it will fit quite well. It's very striking don't you think?" She didn't need to pretend, the watch looked exquisite on her.

"I'm really hard on watches. " She looked thoughtful. "I love it, but maybe it's not too practical. Do you have any that are less expensive."

The shop owner smiled, and took the watch back, and set it aside. "These might be what you're looking for." She took three watches out of the case and set them out. Nikita looked at them and picked out a classic tank watch with a black leather band.

Carly looked pleased. "You can't go wrong, it's similar to a Cartier. This one will take you from day to evening, it's an all occasion look."

Nikita looked amused when she said that. "That's exactly what I need, although I do like that other watch, but it doesn't fit my... lifestyle."

She moved to the shelves filled with casual body hugging pants. She took one down, a cross between leggings and pants with zipper embellishments on it's ankles. "I like these, do you have them in a size two?"

"Yes, they also come in red, gray, teal, brown and of course black. They are very well made, they can take a lot of abuse." The store's proprietor commented.

You have no idea, Nikita thought to herself. "I'll take one in black." Her eyes sparkled, and she moved on to the cashmere sweaters. She fingered the ultra soft knitwear and smoothed her hand down the front. "These are really great. I'll take this one, picking up a dove gray colored turtle neck."

Nikita browsed the rack of cocktail dresses, her face lit up with interest. "May I try this on?"

Carly smiled and led her to the dressing room. Nikita quickly stripped out of her own clothes, and stepped into the black silk dress with lace details and subtle rusching. The zipper was hard to reach and she poked her head through the dressing room curtains.

"Would you help me?" She asked, feeling a little bashful.

The shop owner hurried over and helped her with the long black zipper. "It's getting hung up right here. I can send it out to have it fixed, if you like."

Nikita looked at herself and smiled. The dress fit perfectly and was very classy with just enough sex appeal to make her stand out. "No, I need it for a trip, I think it will be okay." She thought about the retrieval mission to St. Petersburg. She would be going alone, but Michael assured her, it wouldn't be dangerous. The idea of being alone wasn't what bothered her, it was being without Michael that killed her enthusiasm.

"I'm so glad you've found items to your liking. If there is anything special you're looking for, I can keep my eye out on our next buying trip." Carly said sincerely.

"That's really sweet of you." Nikita replied thinking about body armor and holsters for her weapons. She took out a small leather wallet and handed her a credit card.

The transaction was rung up, the watches placed in their cases. They, along with the clothing were wrapped in tissue paper and everything placed in two shiny blue shopping bags.

Nikita slid her aviator glasses back on, and with her purchases in tow, she left the store.

It was a great sale and repeat customers made her very happy. Carly admired the pretty woman with her eclectic but refined taste.

About fifteen minutes after Nikita left the store, a tall lean man dressed in a conservative looking overcoat over black slacks came in. He removed his black leather gloves and stuffed them in his pocket before taking off his dark glasses.

Carly was immediately taken by his masculine good looks. He had a hard angular face when he walked in, but it softened and his eyes looked kind when he spoke to her.

"A friend of mine was just in here, the woman who left with two blue bags…" Michael asked quietly. He felt a little bit self conscious and tried his best to hide his discomfort.

"Yes, she's a friend of yours?" The shop owner asked cautiously.

"We work together. She's a really dedicated worker and… well I'd like to do something nice for her…" Michael searched for the right words.

Carly's instincts kicked in. "Of course. That's really wonderful of you. Is there something in particular you were thinking about?"

Michael looked a little lost as he looked around the woman's clothing boutique. "Well, maybe something useful, but not too practical." He mumbled.

"That's an excellent idea. You know she was looking at some watches." She pointed to the case. "Do you like any of these?" She wondered how well he knew Nikita, and hoped there was a mutual attraction there, instead of being one sided.

Michael looked at the watches and he zeroed in on the platinum one with the diamonds. "I like that one." He pointed to the watch that Nikita had coveted.

"Wow, you must know her pretty well. She was looking at this one, but felt it wasn't practical enough for work." She wanted to ask what they did, but felt it wasn't wise to be so forward. "She tried it on and it looked beautiful on her wrist, she has delicate bone structure. It was slightly too big, but I can take out a link and tighten the clasp to make it fit perfectly."

Michael picked up the watch and turned it over in his hand. He could see her wearing it and knew it was right. "I'll take it. How much?"

"Eighteen hundred dollars." She said casually, hoping he wouldn't balk over the price.

Michael pulled out a money clip and counted out a stack of one hundred dollar bills. Carly picked them up trying not to act too excited.

"It'll just take a moment to adjust. May I wrap it up for you? I use a signature blue paper and satin ribbon." She suggested.

"Thank you." He knit his brow at her. "There is one more thing. Could you send it to her anonymously? I want her to have it, but she might not accept it… she might think it's… awkward."

Carly looked at him kindly, he must have a massive crush on her, she thought to herself. "Of course, but you should send a card with it, so she doesn't think it was sent to her by mistake."

"I have these." She pulled out a plain white card with a blue border. It was a little larger than a business card.

"That should work." Michael said. He watched her work with a pair of jewelry pliers, fixing the clasp, and then wrapping it with care. He thought it looked special, not common. She wrote the card out following his direction.

When they were done, Michael thanked her. "I appreciate your discretion, it is important to both of us."

"She must be special to you." She said casually, not wanting to make him feel self conscious.

Michael looked slightly troubled. "She is."

* * *

Nikita had returned to her apartment from Division Headquarters feeling discouraged and outraged. Percy and Amanda had sent out one of the other new agents on a mission and when she looked at the parameters, she was shocked to see it was basically a suicide mission. When she asked Birkhoff about it, he shook his head solemnly. "It's better then being executed on Level Six, this way they still have a chance to escape and if they don't, they die as heroes."

She knew, since her first mission with Victor Han, that Division was ruthless and Percy was without morals, but she had been in denial. This was a slap in the face and wake up call.

She took her keys out to unlock her door and saw a small bag had been left for her. She was immediately wary and looked around suspiciously, but nothing seemed amiss. Inside the familiar blue bag was a small box. She gingerly pulled the card from the box and opened it. She had completely forgotten what the date was, and it took her by surprise. Written in plain block letters was:

For Nikita,  
Happy Valentine's Day

She picked up the box and entered her apartment. She would take precautions, but was very anxious to see what was inside.


	4. March

"You can really do that?" Nikita asked with more than a hint of surprise.

"No, Nikki, I can't, but if you're Michael, you can." He answered her while squinting at his computer monitor and tapping on his keys.

"It seems weird that he'd just take a day off without telling…. us." She had started to say telling me, but thought better of it.

Birkhoff looked up at her. "Weird is a very subjective word. Remember where you are." He picked up on her worried look. "You think something's wrong? We're talking about Michael here, not some slouch who likes to play catch with hand grenades."

Nikita feigned a smile. "No, nothing wrong. I'm just curious, I wouldn't mind having a little time off to disappear."

"Nikita, no one in Division disappears, we are all accounted for. Michael's absence should be no concern of yours." Amanda walked into Operations and had overheard most of their conversation.

"I… I was just being nosy." She answered, trying to downplay her interest in the situation.

"There are boundaries, remember that." Amanda scolded, folding her arms in front of her and giving Nikita an admonishing look.

"I understand the rules." Nikita answered politely, but inside, she felt another layer of resentment form toward Amanda personally, and Division in general.

"Good." An ambiguous smile graced Amanda's face.

Birkhoff looked up at the two women nervously. One of the things he feared most was getting caught in the crossfire between these two. As far as he was concerned, Michael could stand between them and dodge the bullets.

"Since Michael has taken some time out of Division, you may as well do the same. Perhaps you can do something useful, such as brushing up on your Farsi." She looked down her nose at the freshman agent, and as she gave her the once over, she zeroed in on her wrist. "Nikita, that is a very lovely watch you're wearing."

She looked at her warily. "Thank you."

"Did you pick it out?" Amanda asked pointedly.

"Yes, I did." It wasn't exactly a lie. When she called Carly at her shop to ask her who sent it, she was told an anonymous admirer. Nikita could only hope.

Amanda flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "I would be careful though, it looks like it might break... and then what would you do?"

Nikita resisted the urge to say something she would regret and instead, she grit her teeth into a smile and nodded.

Birkhoff looked relieved when Amanda sauntered out of Operations. "Nikki, I have no idea where Michael is, if it's a mission, it's off the books. You best be very careful, if you dig to much, you could end up in your own grave."

She acknowledged him with a forced smile and a tap on his back before leaving Division headquarters for the City.

On her way back, she thought about what had happened between them in St. Petersburg. She had been sent out to retrieve a computer disk. It was a textbook type of mission, uncomplicated, well planned and solo. The Target would be attending a party at the boutique hotel she was booked into. She had checked into a very posh suite, thanks to Nerd's intervention.

When she heard the sound of someone outside her door, Nikita had been surprised to see Michael, looking deliciously handsome in his tux and announcing he was her date. Her happy reaction at seeing him even surprised her. She knew she wanted more from him, and admitting it was like playing with fire, but she didn't care. The attraction she felt toward Michael wasn't going away. She saw the approval written on his face, and when he helped her with the sticky zipper on her dress, the task seemed incredibly intimate.

They had both enjoyed working the Target, he was an easy mark and retrieving the disk had been a breeze. Back in her room, their banter was friendly and playful and when they kissed, it seemed natural and very right. Kissing Michael was like a treasure chest of riches and it turned her world upside down. Friendship, respect, lust, and need - all of these were reasons enough on their own to long for a real relationship, but together they made her feel like she had discovered something magical, and that is why, the moment had meant so much to her.

She wanted to remember how his lips felt on hers and how he tasted like a sweet rich dessert. She closed her eyes and tried to recall how it felt to be pinned under him with his body molded against hers. But all of these memories were thwarted, when he pulled away from her. She knew, too good to be true, wasn't just a catch phrase.

Michael had told her something that only Percy, Amanda and Kasim Tariq knew. His family was murdered in a terrorist car bombing in Yemen, and today, March 21st, was the anniversary of that tragic event. The heart break she felt was not only for herself, but for Michael as well. He chose to hold on to his hatred and quest for vengeance, and told her, until justice was found, he couldn't move on. The fortress he had built around his heart kept him captive and left her lonely and rejected.

Nikita walked down the street, determined to find him. However strained their relationship was, they were still friends and because of that she guessed where he might be.

It was Happy Hour in the City, the restaurants and bars were crowded with patrons having small plates of food and large cocktails to go with them. Matt's Grill was no exception. She hadn't been back since he took her there for lunch, but judging by the warm reception he had received, she thought it would be a place for him to take refuge.

Inside, she looked around, craning her neck to see beyond the crowd of people. The waitress who she had met, caught her eye and gave her a knowing look. She pointed toward the back of the bar, and that's where she found Michael, sitting alone, a bottle of bourbon and a glass parked in front of him. He was lost in thought as he nursed his drink and a serious and far away look was etched into his face.

She took the seat next to him and the bartender brought her an empty glass and poured her a neat shot.

"Nikita, why are you here? Is something going on that I should know about?" He asked with ambivalence.

"No, I was just…" In the neighborhood seemed ridiculous to say. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"As you can see." He looked at her with a scowl. "I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, but I'd rather be alone."

Her face fell and he saw the hurt look in her eyes, she threw her drink back and did her best to hide her feelings. "I didn't mean to intrude." She slid off of the bar stool and turned to leave, but he reached out, caught her hand and pulled her back.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a jerk." He said slowly. "Please, stay."

She saw the despair in his face and her heart melted. "Michael, I'm so sorry." She said softly.

Michael looked into his glass. "You know, I was a different person than. I was filled with optimism and the future looked bright. Everything I did, I did... for them." His voice trailed off and he choked down his drink.

Nikita looked at him compassionately and nodded, she knew there were no words that could comfort or diminish his pain.

"Sometimes I think my own ambition was to blame. If I hadn't wanted to make inroads with Naval Intelligence and be recognized, we might still be together."

"Michael, you can't rewrite history. Longing for something that never happened will only deepen your regret." She tried to reason with him.

"You may think I'm wallowing in self pity, but my need for revenge isn't just for me. Lizzy's parents could never accept what happened to her and their granddaughter, they were everything to them, too." He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"When Percy found me in that hospital in Yemen, I had nothing, absolutely nothing to live for. He gave me a life, not the one I had before, but a new one." The determined look that she had seen so many times returned. "Division will help me find Kasim and in return, Percy knows he can count on me."

She had come to understand that she could never come between Michael and his reasons for staying in Division, but something inside of her told her that Percy was using Michael for his own gain. She couldn't know it or prove it, it was just something she felt.

Nikita saw the bottle of bourbon was almost empty and she gently pried the glass he held from his hand. "Michael, you can't stay here all night and you shouldn't be alone. We can walk to my apartment."

He looked down at her hand on his. "Why?"

"Because you've been drinking and I think you could use the company." It wasn't an easy question for her to answer.

"No, why me? Why do you care?" He muttered.

"We're friends, I like you." She answered feeling a little annoyed by his attitude.

"I'm damaged goods, a loser, ask Amanda, even Birkhoff knows it." He said bitterly.

"Now, you're really sounding like a jerk. Michael, come back to my place, it's close by and I'll make you some coffee and something to eat."

"You don't have to feel sorry for me." His voiced wavered.

"All right, I won't." She said in a soothing tone. She managed to get him to stand and although he had drank almost an entire bottle of bourbon by himself, he still managed to walk a straight line with his his head held high. Only the glazed look in his eyes and his slow movements told the story of drowning one's sorrows.

Michael fumbled with his wallet and left a generous amount of money on the bar. He anchored it down with the empty bottle. As they were walking out, the waitress came up to Michael and straightened his collar affectionately. She smiled at both of them and said kindly, "It's really not all that complicated." She smiled at Nikita and watched them walk out the door.


	5. April

She was an All American girl, athletic, blonde, blue eyed with a black belt in Karate and a kick that could knock down a two hundred and fifty pound man. When Percy found Kelly on death row in a Texas prison, he saw she had potential and had her plucked from her grimy hell hole in the Federal Penitentiary. She was told to consider this a gift, a second chance at life and an opportunity to serve her country. When she agreed, he gave her the pass code to a shiny clean hell hole called Division. She had already reached Agent status when Nikita was brought in, and it was inevitable that the two most beautiful women within the clandestine organization would work together.

Whether it was sexy stiletto heels at swanky corporate event or sturdy shoes on a hiking trail in the Adirondacks, these two extremely attractive female agents had the ability to complete assignments where others had failed. Brains, courage and heart were the winning combination, but Birkhoff still joked with Michael and Percy that his life would be complete when they found the third _Charlie's Angel._

Kelly was a competent and dedicated Agent with a mind of her own, but more importantly to Nikita, she had become a friend.

* * *

"I think you're being overly paranoid." The Agent with the dark hair accused her guest.

The cynical look and tone in her voice said it all. "Look in the mirror Nikki, remember who we are." Kelly raised her eyebrows at her.

"It's not that big a deal, I just want to know if it still works. Come on Kelly, I wrote this when Nerd was teaching a class on programming, it's really basic."

"All right, what do you want me to do?" She ran her hands through her blonde hair and gathered it up in a messy ponytail before sitting down in front of her laptop.

"I'm emailing you this code, you just enter it into the program and a window comes up and we can chat." She looked pleased with herself.

Kelly bit her bottom lip as she tried the program and just as Nikita had predicted a window popped up with a string of numbers. "Does Birkhoff know about this? I can see him do that thing where he stomps around and waves his hands and says, "This is big! Really big!"

They both broke out in laughter. "It's embedded behind his precious fire wall. He'd have to know to look for it to find it. You have the window?"

"Yeah, what next?"

"Go ahead and send me a message."

The pretty blonde smirked and typed. Across the room, Nikita's computer chimed, indicating that the program was on-line and that her fellow Division Operative had sent her a message.

" _Guess what I saw today?"_

 _"What?"_ She typed back. _  
_

Kelly made a little face. _"I saw a rather compromising picture of Michael with a woman."_

She hated the little pang of jealousy that poked at her. _"So what? You crushing on him?"_

Kelly grinned and typed. " _Yeah, that's right, because he pays so much attention to me."_

She tried not to frown. _"Who is she?"_

Kelly shrugged. " _She's the first bimbo of Belarus, blonde with little boobs. Although, judging from her roots, my guess is it's Preference by Loreal."_

Nikita banged out a reply. _"It takes one to know one."_

Kelly's lip curled up. _"I'm going to have to kick your ass for that one."_

Nikita tried to laugh, but it sounded forced and awkward. _"He makes a really good honey-trap."_

Kelly looked up at her and said the words, that all the female Operatives in Division, recited to themselves. "You know that it's a mission. We do what we have to do, right?"

Nikita shrugged. "I know. We don't have a choice, but this is Michael. He's Percy's favorite, it seems like he could have said no if he didn't want to be sent out…"

"Are you sure about that? Nikita, this place is all about manipulation. Can't you hear Percy? _Michael, it's for your country, we have an important role here. Don't… Let… Me… Down!_ " She shook her head. "If you want to make it in here, you have to to believe it."

She looked at the other agent silently, before going to the refrigerator and opening the door. She pulled out a bunch of carrots, three apples and a gnarled piece of ginger root and placed them on the kitchen counter. Nikita started chopping the ends of the carrots.

"Hey, I didn't mean to bum you out, but the last time I humored someone in Division, they ended up getting beaten to a pulp." She logged out and shut the lid to her laptop and walked over to the kitchen counter. She sat down on a tall stool and watched Nikita behead vegetables.

"You didn't bum me out, it's this place that makes me feel like a puppet with my strings all tangled up. Sometimes I can't accept it, much less justify it, but you're right, who am I to judge Michael? At least he's doing what he believes in." She pulled her juicer over from the edge of the counter and began stuffing it with the massacred produce.

"Nikki," she saw the pensive look on her face. "You know he cares about you, but what do you want him to do about it?" Kelly flinched when the juicer started grinding away.

"Nothing, I just wish things were different." She said pouring and passing a glass to Kelly and filling her own. "You ever feel this way… about someone?"

Kelly laughed. "No." She stated emphatically, but when she saw the expression on Nikita's face, her demeanor turned into something more nurturing. "Everyone knows that Michael is all about you, but that's part of the problem, you two are on Percy and Amanda's radar. He's caught between the dark and the light, and remember, unlike you and I, he's here by choice. You told me he had a good reason. I don't doubt that, but that doesn't mean it's the right reason."

She held her glass up as if making a toast and they clinked them together.

Nikita sighed. "Kelly, do you know Christine? I've been activated for a mission, out of the country and I'm being partnered with her. I heard that she's a good agent, but don't you think it's weird that they'd send us out together? We're strangers, we've never worked together." She finished her glass of juice and set the empty cup in the sink.

Kelly shook her head, feeling a nervous knot form in her stomach. "I only know her by reputation. What's the mission objective?"

She scowled. "Retrieve info off of a scumbag's computer, what else would it be? I'll be putting my French language skills to work, Amanda's got a new cover for me."

The blonde agent hid her anxiety. "I wish I was going out with you. Listen, be careful Nikki. You're being ramped up for more complicated missions. You'll be fine if you keep your wits about you. Remember, you can't be squeamish, about fulfilling your part."

"I figured that out when Amanda put me on the Pill a couple of months ago. She said it was precautionary." Nikita remembered how a little piece of her died that day. "Have you, you know, slept with a Target before?"

Kelly knit her brow and looked at her. "We all end up in someone's bed, unless you're a genius like Birkhoff."

Nikita winced. "The first time, was it hard?"

She saw the look of dread on on her face. "Listen up, Chiquita, it's part of the job description, and has nothing to do with morality, you have to believe that or you'll end up dead."

The dread in her eyes turned to doubt.

"Nikki, you're not a prostitute, and you have to look out for yourself. Remember that."

Kelly checked her watch. "I gotta run." She threw her coat on and picked up her computer. "I won't be there to watch your back, so don't do anything stupid."

"I won't."

* * *

Kelly breezed into Operations with an air of self confidence. She was one of Division's finest, beautiful and deadly, Percy's favorite combination. She confronted Michael silently, glaring at him until he acknowledged her.

"Agent? You need something?" Michael narrowed his eyes at her with suspicion.

"I need a word with you." She demanded.

"I'm busy, can it wait? If it's about your mission status, you know I can't help you. Check in with Steven." Michael said dismissively.

Kelly stood her ground. "It's important and has to do with Nikita."

In the background, Birkhoff let out an exaggerated sigh. _"Hoo boy, here we go..."_ He muttered under his breath.

Michael glared back at the Agent. "Not here. Room A, I need to finish this."

She left without saying another word.

Ten minutes later, Michael shut the door behind him. "What do you want to tell me?"

"Nikita's being sent out on a mission with Christine." Kelly was confrontational and angry.

Michael hid his surprise. "I wasn't aware of that, but that isn't any of your business."

"I know, but it is yours. I've heard about Christine, she's loosing it. She fell in love when she was under cover and now he's dead. Another unfortunate accident." She said sarcastically.

"That isn't your concern. I'm sure Percy and Amanda have evaluated the situation, they wouldn't put another agent in danger." He didn't sound all that convincing.

Kelly scoffed. "Right." She went to the door preparing to leave, but turned back. "You better say something to her, before it's too late... and one more thing, I told her about those photos of you and Mrs. Belarus that had been anonymously sent to my email."

Michael looked confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Cassandra, Queen of Belarus, I know you're doing field work and by the looks of the three images I received... well let's just say, Nikki's not the only one who needs to be on the Pill. I told her, because unlike most of the people here, I care about her feelings." Kelly ranted. "It's only a matter of time before those photos make their way to her in box."

Michael's featured hardened, his anger evident. "I repeat, you're interfering and involving yourselves in matters that don't concern you." His voice was unusually low and raspy.

Her eyes flared with her own anger. "We are all just tools, aren't we?" She let the door bang shut behind her and left Michael with conflict written all over his face.

* * *

Percy and Amanda watched the interaction in Room A from their monitor in Operations. Birkhoff sat at his terminal in the background feeling extremely guilty.

"Do we have a problem here?" Percy had his arms folded in front of him, and looked over at Amanda.

She seemed to be acting unusually sinister. "No, I think this is actually a very good thing."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Do tell."

"It's time for Michael and Nikita to be reminded what their priorities are. This infatuation they have with each other makes them effective as a team, but separately, they could be much stronger."

He nodded. "I see. You're just mixing it up, keeping it fresh."

"Yes." Amanda watched Michael leave Room A. "Kelly needs to go out on a long term mission. Sending her those photos of Michael and the President's wife was a stroke of genius."

Percy looked amused when he saw that Birkhoff looked like he swallowed an onion.

Amanda smiled and gave Birkhoff the evil eye. "Sexual encounters with others might just take the glow away from their own budding dalliance. Wouldn't you agree?"

The Tech Wiz turned red and looked away and she smiled at him. Amanda had a gift, she had no scruples and definitely knew how to make everyone hate themselves, himself included.


	6. May

"Do we have a problem?"

"No, Sir." Nikita had a hard time keeping eye contact with Percy. She knew it was a losing battle to defy him and she hated the fact that each time he got away with murder and deceit, she felt a little more demoralized and responsible.

"Perhaps you need a few sessions with Amanda, she can refresh your memory on why you're here and what the alternatives are." He gave her an icy glare.

"That won't be necessary. I do understand." She wanted nothing more, than to make him understand one thing, how much she wanted to take this second chance to serve her country and shove it up his ass. She knew better and stoically kept her mouth shut.

"We are fighting a war and the fact is, there will be casualties. Percy ranted. "Christine was a liability and you did what was necessary. Consider her collateral damage. Don't forget, we are working for the common good, not just for ourselves." Somehow that lie seemed even more condescending then usual. Percy was the common good and they both knew it.

"Yes Sir." She mumbled. He dismissed her with a nod of his head.

She fled the confines of his office and hurried down the stark empty hallway. Her heels clattered on the floor and she kept her head down, desperately hoping no one would stop her. She ducked into one of the small interrogation rooms and closed the door quietly before collapsing in one of the chairs. Nikita's head sagged and she finally let the tears flow and the crack in her heart grew a little bit larger.

From the very beginning the mission filled her with trepidation. She had been paired with Christine, an agent who was a virtual stranger and whom she sensed was a little bit off. Amanda said this was an excellent opportunity to experience and learn how other agents work, but the empty explanation only made her feel more wary.

They would pose as black market arms dealers. Her alias would be Josephine Besson and Christine's would be Meryanne Dubois. The op would send them to Slovakia to infiltrate Jordan Hunt's organization and retrieve records off of his personal computer. He was a dangerous and ruthless man with connections to corrupt politicians who he kept in his pocket. She tried not to think about what she would have to do to be successful, but denial was potentially more dangerous, and she knew that.

Before they left, Michael took her aside to give her some advice, but in reality he was really warning her.

"Nikita, remember to be very cautious. Christine's come off a difficult long term mission. She may need your help to stay focused. Both of you will be put in difficult positions with Hunt and his people. You need to remember, you're playing a part and how well you play it, how believable you are will be the only way you come out of this in one piece. If you balk, it could be lethal. Do you understand?"

He tried to hide his concern but failed, the look on his face and tone of his voice was almost apologetic. "What we do inside Division has it's own set of rules. Seduction and sex, it's part of our job."

She knew what this meant and for a moment, she wondered if she could go through with it. The idea off sleeping with a Target and pretending to enjoy it, just to keep her cover intact revolted her. But Michael took her hand in his and leaned into her and murmured in her ear. "I will always know who you really are."

He reminded her, she was, and always would be Nikita, and when she looked at him, she saw he was no different than the rest of them.

She had no choice, but to accept, their lives were not their own. As a Division agent, her free will had been compromised from the moment she awoke in the windowless room to find photos of her unattended funeral and simple grave. Josephine was a persona created for her, and deceiving Hunt and his group would keep her alive, but knowing Michael believed in her would be her salvation.

They arrived in Vienna where Hunt's men met them with suspicion and looked at them like they were common whores. They drove them to Bratislava, their headquarters were in a former automobile parts manufacturing plant. Josephine in a short brunette wig and flamboyant clothing played it cool and refused to be rattled. Meryanne wasn't so convincing and her nervous demeanor gave everyone cause for concern.

Hunt was American, a handsome man with refined manners and a Princeton education, yet underneath that gentlemanly façade was an evil, greedy and power hungry individual. He reminded Nikita of Percy and she instantly disliked him. Unfortunately, he eyed Meryanne suspiciously and to deflect attention away from her edgy partner, Josephine made sure he was occupied. She gave Meryanne two USB sticks, one disguised as a lipstick and the other as a tube of mascara and instructed her to go to his office and copy his hard drive.

It seemed the plan was working, Josephine was extremely alluring and adventurous and she toyed with Hunt and did her best to let him think he was seducing her. Amanda reminded her to let him think he was in control.

"Vous êtes comme un animal sauvage... It has been a long while since I've been with a man like you..." She recited the lines with passion.

When he muttered nasty comments in her ear and groped her breasts, she didn't fight him. Instead she concentrated on being convincing, and when they had sex, she made sure his libido was completely satisfied. After he had finished with her, she fixed him a drink, waiting on him and pretending to be enamored. It didn't take much, his ego was already inflated and Nikita easily laced his cocktail with a mild sedative. He would sleep soundly but wouldn't feel drugged when he awoke. She quickly dressed and when she left his room, she thought of Michael. He knew who she was and that was all that mattered. At least, that was what she wanted to believe.

Hunt's office was on the top floor of the building and Nikita crept down the hallway carefully. Meryanne was nowhere to be found, however she did find the lipstick and mascara lying next to the computer and they appeared not to have been used. Nikita logged into his computer using a set of codes that Birkhoff had given her and went about copying files. While the computer hummed, she methodically thought through their plan to get out of Slovakia. When she was done, she tucked the lipstick and the mascara tube into her pocket.

As she prepared to leave the office, Christine confronted her in the doorway with a gun in her hand and pointed at her head. "Give them to me." She demanded. Her face was battered and her blouse was torn.

Nikita backed away from her. "What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?" She whispered, shocked at her behavior.

"No, I know exactly what I'm doing. When I bring those files back and tell them I had to kill you in self defense, Percy and Amanda won't send me out on these missions anymore." She spat the words out defiantly.

"Christine, you don't have to do this." She said the words calmly, thinking hard on what her next move should be.

"Shut up Nikita. I do have to do this. You sent me here and knew one of his me would find me, that vermin was going to kill me and I had to give in to him. I know you were coming here to finish what he had started. Plan foiled, he's dead." Her eyes darted around wildly. "Now give me the flash drives."

"That's not true, please listen to me, I'm not going to hurt you." She reached into her pocket and took the tube of mascara out, but instead of handing it to her, she whipped it forward as hard as she could. It hit Christine in the eye and she yelped in pain. She reached up to her face, and at that exact moment, Nikita lunged for her.

Christine was Division trained and had the advantage of mental instability on her side. She didn't think, or contemplate her actions, she just reacted. She kept a death grip on the gun in her hand as Nikita tried to subdue her. They rolled on the ground and struggled, Nikita had both hands on her wrist but she would not let go of her gun. She managed to knee her in the stomach and it caused her to double up in pain. Nikita could hear her snicker between gasps of breath. "Looks like you lose." She muttered standing over her. She reached down and picked up the mascara tube. "Give me the God Damn lipstick." She ordered.

Nikita rolled onto her side and pushed herself up to a sitting position. "Please Christine, we are on the same side." She slowly and carefully put her hand in her pocket... but instead of the lipstick... she fingered the compact that Michael had given her.

"I don't need you to tell me what side I'm on." The wild look intensified and she cocked the gun.

In one fluid movement Nikita removed and released the blade on the compact and threw it as hard as she could. It hit her in the neck and blood spurted from the wound. The stunned look on Christine's face was filled with hatred, she fired her gun before she collapsed, but her aim was off and she missed Nikita by inches.

The adrenalin in Nikita's system caused her to shake. Think, she told herself. She crawled over toward Christine, intending to retrieve the disguised USB stick, but before she could reach her, she heard a voice.

"Keep going and Sirak will blow your face off." A disheveled looking Hunt and one of his men, armed with a gun stood in the doorway.

"Non, non, j'ai trouvé Meryanne ici ... she was copying your computer files - look in her hand. I stopped her." Josephine pleaded.

Hunt eyed her suspiciously. "She killed one of my men. Apparently, she didn't like his pillow talk." Sirak went to Meryanne and pried her hand open. He took the mascara and pulled it apart to show the USB port connection.

"You see?" She had a self righteous tone in her voice.

"What about that!" Hunt pointed to the blood soaked blade on the compact.

Josephine smiled. "A girl can't be too careful... tu ne trouves pas?"

Hunt gave her a wicked smile. "Josephine, you're really a piece of work... we will dispose of her, you come back and keep me company."

She played the part of Josephine for the next ten days and Nikita grimaced at the memory. She felt ashamed and dirty and Percy's justifications only made her feel worse. Michael was right, there was only one option and she did what was necessary to survive.

The door to the interrogation room opened and she jumped up and backed away, wiping the tears off of her face.

Michael stood looking at her with a worried expression, he closed the door and locked it, before he walked toward her.

Nikita trembled with an array of emotions. She hated herself and wondered how Michael would see her. When he reached out to her and embraced her, she took comfort in his arms and wept.

"Michael, I'm a murderer and a whore..." She choked out between gulps of breath.

"No. You did what was necessary." He said in a quiet but urgent tone.

"Christine was beaten and raped, she thought I had left her. That could have been me, I should have tried to help her!" She cried bitterly.

"You've saved more people than you'll ever know by bringing back the Intel from Hunt's computer. There was a directory on his hard drive of all of his contacts, the info is invaluable." He hesitated. "Percy should have known better than to send Christine out. She used to be one of our best Operatives, she got involved with someone who was killed... she took it hard. Amanda thought she was slipping and this mission was her opportunity to prove herself."

Nikita shook her head with defeat. "Michael, what have I become?"

Michael held her tenderly and rubbed circles around her back. "You've become a extremely valuable asset for Division and you should be proud of yourself." He said soothingly. "I told you, I know who you really are. We all have to do whatever is necessary to survive."


	7. June

Nestled in the shadows of Mount Argeus, the city of Kayseri serves to remind one of the contrasts between ancient and modern times. Sparkling ski slopes overlook mosques and citadels that were built in the eleven hundreds, while bazaars and marketplaces, unchanged in the last five hundred years, line the avenues on the way to Kayseri Stadium.

Today, a throng of enthusiastic fans filled the streets on their way to a Football match between Turkey and Croatia, and one small boy tugged at his father's hand.

"Papa?" The slight eight-year old boy pleaded. "Ice cream, please?"

Ari Tasarov chuckled, the child was a refreshing change from the underground smugglers and organized crime families of Europe. Little Dmitry was filled with life and was still so pure of heart.

"Why would you want ice cream Dima?" Tasarov teased the boy.

The boy turned his head away and pouted. His father kneeled down and forced the boy to look at him. "Tell me why Dmitry." He said with a stern look and tone. "You still have a chance to get what you want if you answer me."

The young Russian boy narrowed his eyes at his father and declared angrily. "I want ice cream because it is good and Mama says it is special. You will buy me ice cream today, or… or I'll sneak into your room and steal something!" He puffed out his chest in defiance.

Tasarov laughed out loud. "Very good Dima, you are very convincing and boys who do not give up and insist on getting what they want will succeed.

"So does that mean yes?" Dima asked, a little confused at what he had been told.

"Yes, Dmitry, that means yes!" Tasarov followed him to the cart and the vendor smiled nervously at the little boy, and his father, and the huge man with the large neck and pinched expression on his face. They glared at him, as he handed Dmitry a chocolate ice cream cone.

It only took a few minutes for the chocolate ice cream to make a ring around his mouth and dot his nose. Tasarov smiled at him with affection, before snapping his fingers at his bodyguard, motioning him to get his handkerchief and clean up his face.

The little boy led his father and their bodyguard, into Kayseri Stadium, where the crowd of twenty five thousand, swallowed them up.

Inside the stadium, Nikita was dressed as one of the ushers who directed people to their seats. She ran up five flights of stairs before coming to a landing, where a set of doors that led to the bench seats were located.

"Location?" Michael's voice rang in her ear.

"Third tier, heading for the stairway to the rendezvous point." Nikita huffed, catching her breath.

"Copy that. Tasarov has been sighted, but has not made his way to his seats." He purposely neglected to tell her that the man was not alone. Michael stood up from his own seat and walked to the aisle.

"I've found the stairway… I'm here… and have located... the hardware." Nikita had taken another flight of stairs to a catwalk where the large spotlights were mounted. She found the black case that had been chained to the railing and quickly entered the combination on the lock pad.

"Is the hardware assembled?" Michael asked with urgency. "Target is on the move."

"Almost there." Nikita said, fitting together the different components of the high-powered rifle. She snapped on the scope and rested the weapon onto the tripod.

"Done. Not too shabby, right?" She muttered to herself. "Target, location?"

Michael used his binoculars to search the section where Tasarov should be sitting. "I see him, he's headed for the aisle."

She kneeled down with her eye pressed against the scope. She could see the crowd in the cross-hairs and moved it slightly left and then right, before zeroing in on the seats where Tasarov would be sitting. She was focused and in Division sniper mode, but when she saw Dmitry, her heart sank and she became Nikita again.

"Michael?" She said cautiously. "There's a child with him."

"Nikita, take the shot. Finish the mission." He knew instantly, the minute he heard her voice, this was a problem.

Her eyes filled with tears when she saw the little boy wrap his arms around his father's neck, squeezing him mischievously. "I can't." She whispered.

His voice was urgent. "Nikita, we need to finish this and go. Do it now." He ordered her, but he already knew the mission had failed.

"I can't." She said solemnly and pulled away from the weapon. "Requesting ex-fil. Please, Michael..." but before she could finish, she knew she wasn't alone. She whipped herself around to find a man standing over her, he was dressed as a security guard and held a gun in his hand.

"Who the hell are you?" Nikita said under her breath.

The man chuckled at her. "I'm your... how do you say... your worst nightmare. Nice try _sevgili_ , he taunted her in Turkish. "Step away from your weapon." A large scar ran down his cheek and he smiled at her showing a row of steel teeth. He motioned to her with his gun.

She put her hands up submissively, trying to buy time. "What do you want? I will give you whatever you want, if you let me go." She saw the lustful look in his eyes and knew she had to do something.

"What's happening?" Michael's voice echoed in her ear.

"I don't want any trouble. I value my life, more than my job." She said slowly.

The man laughed and she watched him loosen the belt on his pants. "I bet you like to scream, you know, I like it when women scream. I like to make them scream. Take your dress off." He spat out.

"Nikita? Report!" Michael's panicked voice rang in her ear.

"There's no need to be such a pig." She said soothingly and unzipped the Usher's uniform and let it fall to the ground. She wore a tight black tank top and leggings underneath.

The man smiled lecherously and motioned for her to come toward him. "You can fight me, I like that too." He said smugly.

She smiled at him suggestively. "Okay, have it your way!" She took one step toward him and before he could react, she tackled his arm that held the gun.

He grunted with surprise, shocked that this diminutive looking girl could be so strong and when she kneed him in the groin and clenched her fists together to hit him under his chin, he was stunned.

She went for the gun and although she had managed to catch him off guard, his grip was ironclad. She stomped on his foot and struggled to get him to drop the gun. The burley man lost his grip and his weapon went skittering across the floor.

Nikita blocked a punch he threw at her, but he had become a mad man, livid with anger and he kept coming at her until she was pinned up against the railing. She ducked to evade being hit but he jabbed her in the stomach and she doubled over, unable to breath. She acted on instinct and jerked herself to the left and his fist connected with the rail instead of her face.

He let out a groan of pain and anger and threw himself at her. She was pinned underneath of him when she felt his hand around her throat, her vision blurred and her world went black.

Michael's alarmed voice was distant, but she could still hear him. "Nikita! You're going to be okay, we have to go."

A second seemed an eternity. "Requesting ex-fil..." She mumbled.

Michael propped her up into a sitting position. "We have to get out of here NOW!" He helped her up and she swayed on her feet. After a few seconds her eyes began to focus.

He held her around the waist and helped her step over the man who attacked her. She saw a black stain on the back of shirt and knew Michael had shot him. Urging her forward toward the stairs, they descended down them and the two Division agents stumbled to the door leading to the concourse.

An announcement came over the loud speaker and the crowd cheered, the remaining spectators who had lagged behind rushed to their seats. The two of them maneuvered themselves through the crowd as they hobbled down the concourse. He led her toward a bank of elevators.

"Michael… I couldn't do it. I'm sorry, there was a little boy." Her voice was raspy from being strangled.

"Not now. We have to get out of here." When the elevator doors opened, a crowd of people emerged and he fought past them into the car. Nikita was disoriented as he leaned her against the wall and punched the buttons in the elevator to take them down. "I'm sorry, it was the only way." He murmured to her. His voice was low and filled with emotion.

She was more than surprised to see and hear him appear so apologetic. "What are you talking about? What just happened?"

"The boy is Tasarov's son, Dmitry. I just found out this morning he would be with him." His brow furrowed and he looked distressed.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did you make me go up there, you must have known I couldn't have gone through with it." She was confused and started to feel she was the one being betrayed.

"I know you wouldn't take the shot. I could have gone instead, but I would have done it, and that innocent boy would have watched his father die." He looked at her sadly. "I'm sorry."

Nikita felt a jolt of anger course through her. "What about that goon? Did you know about him too?"

Michael shook his head. "No, he was security for the stadium. Listen to me, I knew if you went up there, you wouldn't go through with it, but I never expected that animal to show up."

The elevator car door opened and he led her out. The concourse was dotted with people but their attention was on the game and they stared up at the television monitors that hung above their heads. Michael had wrapped his windbreaker around her and hugged her to him as they exited the stadium.

"Jesus Christ, Michael!" She ranted, but as her heart rate subsided, she started to understand what had just transpired. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I'm sorry I put you through this, but I wasn't sure I could trust you."

"Great. Michael, that's just great." She muttered angrily.

They stood in the shadow of the stadium. "It isn't what I planned, I had to improvise. We tell Percy that we were made, you tried to take the shot, but were overpowered by that security guard. We won't be implicated, it will appear the guard was attempting to assassinate someone. The rifle is Russian issue and there are countless likely Targets in the Stadium."

She looked down at herself and realized that underneath the windbreaker her tee shirt and the waist band on her leggings were ripped. Michael was filled with remorse when she examined her torso and saw the huge bruise forming on her stomach.

"We have to get you out of her." He whispered as he wrapped his jacket around her. The look of concern was written all over him. "You might have internal injuries."

"Only if we're lucky." Nikita managed a very small smile. "It'll be easier to sell this story to Percy."


	8. July

It was an eleven-hour trip from Seoul to McGuire Air Force Base and though the Military cargo plane's white noise lulled them into complacency, sleep evaded them. They curled up on a cot, their bodies spooned together and found themselves in that place between sleep and wakefulness. Like a heavy quilt on a cold morning, they found comfort in each others arms. After successfully completing a harrowing mission in North Korea, there was no romantic glow or endearing murmurs, they held on to each other to keep their sanity.

The Division agents were sent to infiltrate a military hospital under full lock down. They were isolated under dark cover in a hostile country. Michael had to keep low, hidden from view, while Nikita had to openly interact with the North Koreans. She had taken the place of a doctor of Russian/Chinese dissent, her role was to make sure a Division developed computer chip, was implanted into the base of a high ranking cabinet member's skull during his subdural hematoma operation. Michael was there to run logistics and to ensure the $100,000 in gold coins was dropped at the Primary Surgeon's designated address, but more importantly, to make sure Nikita made it out, alive.

The trust they had to put in each other was unprecedented. Any slip ups might mean one or both of them would be captured, tortured and most likely executed, because Division would deny any involvement. Only they would know what it took to complete the mission and only Michael would know how much Nikita had risked to do Percy's bidding. He was the single Division Agent who was capable of accomplishing things no other agent could do, and she was the only one in his life, who could stand up to his demands and never fail him.

It took being back on U.S. soil, a double shot of brandy and standing in a scalding hot shower until the hot water tank ran cold, before either could come down from the intensity of the mission. This is when sleep would come to claim them. Nikita, inside her apartment, burrowed into her bed was grateful her brain and body were numb, and Michael, at his unknown address lay on his couch, pondering the mission and asking himself what success really meant to Division.

A few days later, they were called in to Operations and had to endure Percy's bravado, while he expounded on the importance of their mission. The egotistical look in his eye and the boastful tone in his voice were intense. He purposely wanted them to witness him activating the kill chip, and he looked pleased, even happy when the cabinet member collapsed. "It will appear he died of a brain aneurysm." Division's leader said gleefully at the high tech assassination. The ramifications of what they had done could no longer be denied as they watched Mao Chin Wu die, while giving a speech at the United Nations.

Michael's concern for Nikita was evident. He never took his eyes off of her, watching to see if she would implode, but Nikita managed once again, to hold it together. She claimed fatigue was the culprit for her skittish behavior and like a brave soldier, she never faltered. It was only when Percy suggested, new recruits have this recently developed generation of chips implanted in them, that he knew she had been pushed to the very edge of her tolerance. The look on her face amused Percy, and it worried Michael.

"Nikita." Michael said cautiously, walking next to her, down the corridor.

She didn't slow her pace and she kept her head up, a look of anger frozen on her face. "What?" Her eyes straight ahead, her voice clipped.

"I want to make sure you're all right. I know this was a difficult mission for you, but we did…"

She stopped and faced him. "Cut the crap Michael. I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses anymore. I know what we do and who we are. We kill people for Percy and you defend it." She spat the words out at him before turning on her heels and trying to escape from what they had become.

Michael would look back at this short conversation with remorse, he would come to realize, it was the moment that divided them.

* * *

It was just after midnight in the City, the temperature had subsided ten degrees and the cover of night eliminated the burden of the sun, but the air was still hot and humid. It was a neighborhood where central air conditioning meant sitting on your stoop with a cold drink and listening to the sounds of John Coltrane, Jay Z or Mozart drifting through the open windows.

Nikita drove through the inner city neighborhood on her Ducati and stopped at an empty building on the edge of a residential area. She killed the engine and removed her black helmet and looked around evaluating her circumstances when a man emerged from the shadows.

She had her gun in her hand when he came closer and was surprised to hear his cheerful upbeat voice. An unassuming man in his late thirties, Henry was in the freelance Intel business and when Percy wanted to know something without tapping into Division resources, he was the man to contact.

"You are?" He said pleasantly.

"Nikita. Amanda sends her regards." She replied, unsure of what to expect from this extremely normal looking individual.

"Oh yes, lovely Amanda. Has she electrocuted anyone lately?" He laughed. "For the record, I'm just teasing."

"And off the record?" Nikita was starting to like this guy.

He chuckled. "Let's just say she sets the bar for duplicitous, scary and conniving."

"Can't argue with that." Even in the dim light their shared amusement was evident.

"I have the information that Percy requested. It is accurate and I stand by it, however if Amanda isn't satisfied, my policy is no returns or refunds." He handed her a sealed manila envelope.

Nikita reached for it, but an uneasy feeling came over her and when she saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, she propelled herself against the unsuspecting man and threw him to the ground while a bullet traveled through the space he once occupied.

Nikita spun around. With her weapon drawn, she fired at a black car, it's tires laying down rubber and squealing, as it sped off.

She looked over at Henry who was visibly shaken. "That was close!" His voice quavered from the excitement.

Nikita gave him her hand and helped him up. "Why were they after you?"

Henry brushed himself off. "Having people shoot at you is one of the downsides of being a merchant of information. Some of what I sell is quite incriminating and the consequences are far reaching." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card. "Thank God you were here, some of Percy's other minions would have let them take me down and hopped back on their bad ass motorbikes and left my body for the rats." He handed the card to her. "Contact me if you ever need something. We'll keep this between the two of us, Percy and Amanda do not need to know."

Nikita took the card from his hand. "Will you be okay? I think they are gone, but you can never be sure."

Henry started back toward the building. "I'll be fine, and Nikita, I'm serious, I think this may be the start of a meaningful relationship. Call me if you think I can be of some help."

"Thank you Henry. I may just do that."

Before he vanished into the shadows, he called out. "If it ever comes up, I've been introduced to an excellent forger and I can put you in touch. Gustav is the best."

Nikita smiled to herself as she tucked Henry's business card into her pocket and the manila envelope inside her jacket. She climbed back onto her motorcycle and disappeared into the night.

Amanda knew Nikita had been pushed to her limits, and because of this, she insisted she spend the next few weeks running non combative missions for Division. She had become her go to girl and Amanda hoped this might ease her tension and diffuse her anger. Retrieving documents from informants or dropping monetary compensation into mail boxes might have seemed innocuous to those in charge, but for Nikita, it gave her time to think. She had come to the conclusion that she was a prisoner of her circumstances, but she would bide her time, and someday she would be free.

Nikita had left the envelope with Birkhoff. He eyed her warily.

"What's up? Why the stink eye?" She asked, curious at his lack of sarcastic banter.

"Nothing really. It just seems weird that you're running errands, it's a waste of talent you know?" His tone was almost too nonchalant.

"Weird, is a subjective word, especially here in Division..." She mocked him and gave him a little pat on the back before leaving.

Birkhoff grimaced to himself. He felt it coming, a hailstorm of shit was ready to rain down on his favorite duo.

* * *

When Nikita approached the front door to her apartment, she was surprised to find Michael standing in the hallway looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Nikita, I'm sorry for intruding, but I need a word with you." He looked at her and felt conflicted, he wondered if it were a mistake to come here.

She looked at him puzzled by his behavior. There had been a wall thrown up between them since she had told him off, and although she was sad about it, she felt justified. She opened her door and motioned for him to come inside.

"You want a drink or something?" She asked politely.

Michael shook his head. "I wanted you to know I'm being assigned a solo mission, it may take me out of Division. We may have intermittent contact. Steven may be leading your missions."

Nikita wasn't surprised, she knew the minute that Amanda had tried to soothe her with a promise of down time, she and Michael were purposely being separated.

"All right, but you didn't have to come here to tell me that." She went to her refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water. "What do you really want?"

He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his hands balled up in fists and his eyes filled with doubt. "I want you to understand that our work is important. Division isn't as evil as you seem to think."

Nikita scoffed and leaned against the kitchen counter. "Why do you insist on telling me these things? I'm not as naive and stupid as you think."

Michael closed the space between them. "I know that. I'm also not as naive and stupid as you think. Nikita, I'm here because I believe in Division, but if you can't, I want you to believe in me."

She felt her cheeks grow pink and her heart began to beat rapidly. "I do believe in you." Her eyes met his. "What will you do when you finally get what you want?"

His eyes burned through her with their intensity. "I can't think that far ahead, but whatever happens, I want you to know that I care about you." He leaned down and his lips brushed against her cheek.

"Michael..." She said breathlessly and reached for him, caressing his cheek with her fingers. He hugged her to his chest. "Nikita, don't. You know I can never make you happy."

She pushed him back. "Where are you going?"

The look in her eyes made him feel weak, and he was almost afraid to tell her.

"Belarus."


	9. August

Marcus Whitfield stumbled down the aisle and plopped himself down in the narrow airplane seat. He looked about nervously and his hands shook as he struggled to fasten his seatbelt. The woman sitting next to him gave him an odd look and wrinkled her nose at him before returning to her book.

Whitfield loosened his tie and unfastened the buttons on the collar of his dress shirt. He reached into his breast pocket and removed his handkerchief and dabbed at the perspiration on his face and neck. A panicky feeling had enveloped him since he left his loft and it was finally starting to ebb. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Any man, who had left four million in Superdollars behind, would have been angry or despondent. Whitfield was both, but he was also happy because he was still alive. What happened to Raymond, the ingenious chemist who had formulated an exact match to the ink the U.S. Mint used, was more than disturbing. He had been executed, by a single bullet to the back of his head, and when he found out that Kyung, his North Korean courier had suffered the same fate, disturbing turned to frightening. Both of them had fallen victim to a calculated, cold-blooded killer, but this wasn't any random act of violence, this was Division.

Twenty-four hours before, his contact, Jil Bak had called him. The North Korean diplomat told him their operation had been identified and compromised by a black ops organization. The source of the information was the Russian, Ari Tasarov and both men knew it was reliable. While Bak listed off their options and tried to reassure him that he was safe, Whitfield heard him gasp, then plead for his life, before the line went dead. The investment banker turned money launderer, was the last one alive.

Whitfield wanted to run, but he wanted to take the four million in counterfeit cash he had tucked away with him. They were of such high quality it would take an expert forger to recognize they were fakes and four million was a definite chunk of change. He had loitered around the neighborhood where the Superdollars were stashed, watching from a safe distance and trying to see if anything was amiss, looking for the right opportunity to enter. He waited until it was dark and ventured toward the building. When he was within sight of the front door, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He jerked around, covered in a cold sweat and found he was standing toe to toe with a beautiful young woman.

The woman smiled at him and gave him a friendly bump on his shoulder with her fist, but it did nothing to calm his jumpy behavior. She tucked a fat envelope into his suit jacket pocket.

"You look like a smart man, so you must know, you're next on the list." Nikita was calm but blunt. "I'm going to walk to the end of the block and when I come back, if you're still standing here, you're a dead man." She strode off and looked over her shoulder to see him scampering down the street before disappearing around the corner.

Whitfield climbed into a cab and instructed the taxi driver to take him downtown. When he fished out the envelope from his pocket, he looked inside and there was a one way plane ticket to Butte, Montana and fifty thousand in what he suspected were Superdollars. He knew he would never be back when he told the driver to take him to the airport.

Nikita sighed to herself and entered the building, taking the stairs two at a time to Whitfield's loft.

"Nikita what's your status?" Michael asked over their Com units.

"Target has been neutralized." Nikita answered, her voice calm and steady. "He's long gone… when did you get back?"

"Did you recover the money, we're still a few of million short." He questioned. "Steven insists there is another four million unaccounted for."

"There was no money, Whitfield must have passed it on to someone else." She wondered if he could tell if she was lying. "Where are you?" She asked suspiciously.

"Where are you?" He countered.

"I'm at Whitfield's place. It's been trashed, no sign of money or anyone else. I'm coming in."

"Copy that." Michael said gruffly, but in the next beat he whispered to her. "I need to talk to you." Before she could ask why, he cut himself off.

Nikita surveyed the duffel bags that were ensconced into an ancient banker's safe that was built behind a false wall. She had to give Whitfield credit for the brilliant hiding place, she might have missed it, but it was left open with one of the four bags of money hanging out. She shut the heavy door and spun the dial before leaving.

It was risky to withhold the Superdollars from Division and she knew it. She couldn't really put her finger on it, or maybe she didn't want to, but there was something inside of her that told her it was worth the risk. After all, she reasoned, who knew when having access to the counterfeit money might come in handy.

Back at Division, Steven and Carlos had already unloaded their weapons. They gave her a funny little look as they passed each per and she understood why, when she saw Michael and his dark brooding aura, draped around him like a superhero cape.

She had tried to disengage herself from her feelings. On the surface, she had managed to appear focused and cold to the touch, but on the inside, it was a much different story.

Long before their mission to North Korea, she knew she didn't trust Percy or Amanda. They talked a good talk, but contradicted it with their actions. Percy would always insist they were serving their country and the greater good of democracy and Amanda would tell her that Division was now her family. She knew these were meaningless words invented to keep her in her place. Even Birkhoff and Kelly, who had become friends of sorts, were loyal to the organization first and would ask questions second.

It was only Michael she trusted, but now they were divided emotionally and in ideology. Nikita hated feeling alone, it reminded her of her past. Even as a child she felt disconnected with those around her. The one exception was her foster mother, but when she died, everything in her life fell apart.

As long as she had known Michael, he was always impeccably well groomed and today was no different. He dressed like he was in control, and it was one of the aspects about him that she was attracted to, however, she felt a jolt when she looked at him. Tonight he looked ill at ease and she thought, almost sad.

"Long time no see." She said casually, it had been mid July when they had returned from North Korea and now it was the last week in August. She unloaded her weapon and the extra clip onto the table. "How was the mission?"

The look of distress on his face overwhelmed her. "Michael, what is it?"

He turned away from her, refusing to make eye contact. "I realized, a little too late that I am a complete hypocrite and my attitude toward you has been sanctimonious."

Nikita was taken aback, and hearing him say these things to her did nothing to validate what she had done in the past or ease her own conflict.

"Why would you say such a thing? You have told me countless times that what we do means something, and that the people we put down are to save the lives of many." She felt a bubble of anger work it's way up to the surface, ready to pop.

He finally looked at her. "The consequences of what I've done… they are… they won't just go away."

Nikita saw Roan approaching, squinting at them and she wondered why he was always trying to catch her doing something wrong. "I need to change my clothes and I'll meet you in your office."

Michael shrugged off his gloom. "My car is in the transport bay, meet me there and I'll drive you home."

The car ride was uncomfortable, silence hung over them and each attempt she made to engage him in conversation failed. She finally gave up until he pulled into the parking garage of her building.

"Michael? Tell me what's bothering you." She felt his vulnerability and it was different and unnerving, not the usual solid self-confidence she was used to.

He just shook his head at her and motioned for her to get out of the car. They went up to her apartment and once inside, she urged him to sit down at her table and poured him a healthy shot of whiskey.

He nursed the drink in his hands and swallowed it down quickly. "The State Department was made aware of business deals the government of Belarus had entered into with a militant arms brokers in the Ivory Coast. They asked Percy to intervene and I was sent in to discover who the President's contacts in Africa and Eastern Europe were."

He looked at her sadly. "I was able to access the information by seducing his wife, it wasn't difficult, she is a lonely woman. Once I had gained her trust and acquired the data, I cancelled the President."

Nikita poured him another drink and one for herself. "Why are you telling me this? We've always told each other, we do what we have to do. What's really going on?"

"I saw Cassandra last week, I was worried she was in danger, but it appears she will be safe, since she has little influence with the new government. I told her the truth, well most of it, she had fallen in love with me and I thought she deserved to hear it. She became upset …"

"Michael, it is unfortunate, but you were following orders." She hesitated as she started to put the pieces together in her mind, her heart thumped madly in her chest. "Wait? Are you telling me you're in love with her?"

The startled look on his face relieved her and confused her. "No, I am not in love with her." Michael took Nikita's hand in his and caressed it gently.

"What is it then?" She asked, a feeling of dread had crept up on her.

"Nikita, she's pregnant.


	10. September

"I have to hand it to you. I didn't think he could do it. After all, he is the moral compass around here." Percy sat on the edge of his desk, his arms folded in front of him.

Amanda smoothed a strand of imaginary hair away from her face. "You underestimate him, his ethics have nothing to do with his ability to perform his duties. Michael believes in himself, his capacity to make a difference, to serve the greater good of society."

"But, he is a man of honor, and to use a woman like that, how could he?" Percy asked sarcastically. His eyes twinkled with amusement.

She settled back in her chair and arranged her legs in a lady like manner. "He knew he was being tested. All of his reassurances to Nikita, that sleeping with a Target was nothing more than an element of the job. He wasn't in a position to refuse."

He stood and stretched his back before walking to the wet bar where he fixed them each a drink. "She is quite a beauty. Smart, sexy and calculating… but she is not Nikita." He raised his eyebrows and handed her a cocktail.

She gave him a sly smile. "No, she's not. She is much better. Two agents with a conscious working together can be a problem. Ergo lies the problem with Michael and Nikita. Mrs. Aleinikov, on the other hand, won't be one of them."

"Her pregnancy is actually a nice touch. A complicated nice touch." Percy shook his glass and the ice cubes tinkled. "What do you think he'll do, now that he knows?"

Amanda tilted her head and pursed her lips together. "That is hard to say. It may serve to remind him that he is Division and not the Boy Scout he aspires to be." She sipped her drink. "How long do you think it'll be before Nikita finds out?"

Percy chuckled. "If not already, soon. It'll be interesting to see how she handles the news."

"When do you plan on telling him the truth?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Percy leered at her. "Maybe… never?"

* * *

 _Cassandra slipped the straps of her gown off of her shoulders and slid the zipper on the side of her dress down. The garment pooled around her feet and she stepped out of it. She looked over her shoulder at him with shameless candor. She released the clip in her hair and her blonde curls cascaded down her back._

 _He thought they were much alike, moody, secretive and two-faced._

 _Walking towards him, wearing only her lacy undergarments and high heels, her hips swayed ever so slightly, she was quite a sight. He slouched back in a brown leather club chair, with a drink his hand. His tuxedo jacket had been thrown on the bed and his bow tie dangled from his unbuttoned collar._

 _Michael told himself to relax and act like the man he was portraying and not the man he actually was._

 _She made it easy._

"Yo! Mikey? Where are you man, have you heard anything I just said?" Birkhoff gave him an aggravated look.

The far away look in Michael's eyes disappeared. "The mission in Serbia doesn't have to be aborted. Tell Hugo to lay low until Jaraslava contacts him. She'll help us find the exact location of the Target. We know he's in the city and couldn't have gone far."

Birkhoff looked surprised. "You got it." He should have known that Michael was mentally able to multi task, but when he caught him day dreaming, he knew something was up with him.

He barked orders through their Com units, while Michael's eyes darted between the monitors above them as they flashed on different scenes. Within a few minutes, everyone was back on track and the active mission stabilized. The tech expert swung his chair around. "You want to talk about it?"

Michael gave him a vacant look. "Talk about what?"

Birkhoff scoffed at him. "I'm channeling my inner Amanda, there's something on your mind and maybe talking about it will help."

Michael scowled and shook his head. "No, talking about what we do in Division will not help my sour mood, but there is one thing you can do."

He knit his brow. "Anything." It wasn't often that Michael asked him for information.

"I think Division has given Cassandra Aleinikov some resources and I'd like to know what they are." Michael paused and stared at Birkhoff. "This has to be off the books."

"Okay, but why the secrecy? That was your Op, you could look into it." He looked perplexed. Michael had as high a level of clearance as he did.

"Just do it, okay? I don't want Percy or Amanda know."

* * *

It was a flurry of arms and legs, throwing punches, kicking and trying to catch the others weak spot. She pivoted on her right foot and when her opponent grabbed her arm and tried to twist it behind her back, she flipped herself onto the ground, taking him with her. She rolled off of him and kipped to her feet, before throwing herself down on him and putting him in a strangle hold. The look on his face was frantic when he struck the mat with his free hand. Nikita let up and her sparring partner gasped for air and looked at her warily.

Carlos glared at them from the sidelines with a look of disgust. "I hope your feeling better. What the hell are you trying to prove?"

She gave him a dark look. "I'm just keeping my skills sharp." The training mat was one of the few places that she could express her anger.

Carlos snorted out a laugh. "You had better not kill any of these new agents, Percy won't like that."

"Not to mention the agents." Birkhoff chimed in, he'd walked up behind her and stood there looking uncomfortable.

She grabbed a towel and mopped the sweat up off of her face. "What?" She replied to his troubled glare.

Birkhoff muttered under his breath "Not here." He handed her a slip of paper with a set of numbers and a word scrawled on it. "Here's that number you asked for. Don't bother thanking me." He said loud enough for others to hear.

She gave him a puzzled look as she watched him walk off in a hurry. Nikita put the slip of paper into her pocket and walked toward the locker room. Once there, she tucked the info into her purse before stripping off her work-out clothes and heading toward the shower.

Once she was clean and her hair in a tight bun, she dressed in the prescribed clothing that Amanda had insisted was appropriate. A demure looking gray suit, a cream colored silk blouse and black pumps. Nikita signed out of Division using the fingerprint scanner and went back to her apartment in the City.

He was never far from her mind. How could he be? When she broke it down to into smaller pieces, she saw that he was a mentor, a protector and a friend. Nikita was, if nothing else, loyal and caring. Knowing that Cassandra Aleinikov was pregnant with his child brought her within an inch of her boundaries, but in spite of how much she resented this turn of events, she also knew that the victim here was Michael… and the child.

When she walked into her apartment, she threw her keys on the counter and slipped off her shoes. She went straight to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of white wine and went to her computer.

Nikita knew the slip of paper that Birkhoff had handed to her was an I.P. address, and that the cryptic word _panacea_ was most likely a password. She logged into a secure connection, one that she had installed herself and used her best hacking skills to gain access to the mysterious server. When she finally navigated her way there, only one file existed and attached to it was a note from Birkhoff.

 _I'll deny sending you this so don't even bother pointing a finger at me._

She opened the document and it was from Percy's secure and classified files. This was not the spit and polished version, but contained the gritty facts of Michael's mission to Belarus. The objective was to eliminate a global security threat within Eastern Europe by accessing the private directory of Ivan Aleinikov, President of Belarus, and after the information was recovered, assassinating him.

Michael's cover was as an Interpol agent, looking into the theft of jewels and artwork from a wealthy German businessman. A necklace with a matching pair of earrings had showed up in a photograph of the First Lady, Cassandra Aleinikov, and he had been sent to investigate. An initial interview and inspection proved his information was invalid, but a spark of interest had been ignited and an invitation to a party the President and his First Lady was hosting, was extended.

Nikita knew how charming he could be and she chided herself on being jealous. The more she read, the more it felt like she was witnessing a car wreck, but she couldn't tear herself away from it. It was intrusive and considering she had no claim but friendship on Michael, it was none of her business, yet she kept reading.

It was an old story. A handsome man finds and rescues a beautiful woman from the clutches of a loveless marriage. Add money, greed and power to the equation and it seemed that Michael had created quite a monster. Lies, promises and sex had sealed the deal. Cassandra would betray her husband and the information obtained would be used as leverage to blackmail President Aleinikov out of thirty million rubles and to grant a divorce.

Everything had gone as planned. Over the course of a month, Michael gained Cassandra's confidence and they became lovers. She had recovered the pass codes needed to access his records and that triggered a chain reaction. The photos that Kelly had been sent were included in the file and Nikita hated herself for studying them. She knew it was a lie, she knew that Michael wasn't in love with Cassandra, yet it still pained her to see him with the blonde woman in his arms.

What Michael didn't know is what Percy's real objective was, adding the rubles that equaled almost a million US Dollars to his personal coffers. Finding the directory and assassinating the President was for the benefit of the CIA, which Percy gladly agreed to, in return for the money. Michael's affair with the First Lady was for the benefit of… the First Lady. Cassandra Aleinikov had entered into the conspiracy as a willing partner.

It was a sordid tale, and as awful as it was, the ugliness of it wasn't over.

When she was done, Nikita was horrified, worried and livid. Somehow, she knew she had to do the right thing, but sometimes "right" isn't always evident. She picked up her phone and called Michael.

She met him at Matt's Grill for a drink and hoped she had the courage to tell him what she had found. Michael sat in a booth across the table from her. Others may have missed it, but Nikita saw the fatigue in his eyes.

"You said it was important." He looked at her, not at all aware of why he was there.

Nothing in her Division training prepared her for this moment. It was extremely personal and she thought, heartbreaking. She handed him a file. "I came across this, please don't ask me how, I won't tell you."

She slid the manila file over to him.

Michael picked it up and leafed through it. He stopped at a page that Nikita had flagged, and his face began to burn with anger and humiliation. "Percy." He continued reading another page and finally looked at her with murderous rage in his face. "They could have told me."

"I'm so sorry, but you deserved to know the truth, even if it makes you miserable." Knowing the pain she was causing him made her heart ache.

He took a deep breath, finished his drink and shrugged. "I know he must have had his reasons."

Nikita looked at him with disbelief. Of all the reactions she thought he might have, this wasn't one of them. "How can you say that?"

The last few pages spoke of Cassandra Aleinikov's purported pregnancy and how the biological father was clearly not Michael. Six years before, after the car bombing that killed his wife and daughter, Michael had been sterilized, without his knowledge, before leaving the Navy Hospital in Yemen, to join Division.


	11. October

Division headquarters is an austere place with hard surfaces that repel frivolity like personal trinkets or decorations. No one celebrates holidays in a black ops organizations, unless it is part of a mission, and the idea of giving gifts to cheer up a fellow agent is unheard of. But sometimes, even the threat of Level Six or a mission that no one returns from, isn't enough of a deterrent when it comes to gratitude.

When Nikita walked off the elevator and onto the training floor, she waded through a sea of nameless recruits with vacant expressions. She was once part of them and although she often wanted to reach out and tell them not to be discouraged, she couldn't lie. Instead she blocked their idle chatter from her mind and ignored the shell shocked looks on some of their faces and headed straight to Operations.

Inside the hub of Division, monitors flickered with movement, computers hummed and the sounds of technicians tapping on keys could be heard in the background. Birkhoff looked up, brushed the hair out of his face and barked a few orders out before going back to work. He eyed Nikita suspiciously when she walked in with a brown paper bag in her hands.

"Hey Nerd, I brought you a present." She swung the bag into Birkhoff's lap.

"I know you got the hots for me, but presents won't make me give it up for you, baby." He had a glib look on his face.

She did her best to look stern, but a smile cracked through. "If you're going to be that way, give me the bag back."

Birkhoff held onto it possessively and slowly peeked inside, it was his turn to let a smile crack through. Inside was a cache of Halloween candy. "I take it back Nikki, I'm all yours." He pulled out a bag of individually wrapped Red Vines and looked at it with affection. "What exactly do you want?"

She looked at him innocently. "Nothing, sometimes you just have to do something nice for someone else, right?"

He gave a subtle snort and unwrapped and bit into the candy. "Yeah, right." His cynicism was written all over him.

Nikita looked at him thoughtfully. "I mean it. Enjoy." She turned and walked away. He was a useful ally and she had grown to respect his brilliance and to appreciate his capabilities. They had landed inside of Division around the same time, and while she was learning the subtle art of breaking someone's neck, he was finding and plugging up every hole in Division's computer network. One day she looked at him and realized they had something in common. It wasn't enough to do your best, you had to be the best, and they saw that when they looked at each other.

Birkhoff looked around the room before digging into the bag of treasures. Along with the Red Vines, he found a bag of candy corn, another of jack-o-lantern Peeps, tiny boxes of Red Hots, and taped to the front of the peanut M and M's was a note that simply read: _a panacea for what ails you_

It made his insides ripple a little to think about the info he had passed on to her. He was speechless at what he found, and he'd never talk about it, but it made him think about being trapped in this shit hole called Division. He ripped the slip of paper off of the package, crumpling it up and tossing it into the wastebasket. Even though he knew someone was examining his trash, he didn't care, the note could mean anything. He shoved the bag of candy onto the floor and kicked it under the desk.

Birkhoff chewed on his Red Vine, looking through the window and watching Michael stop Nikita on the training floor. He could clearly see the tension in their bodies. Sometimes he wondered if they wouldn't just combust and when Roan was sent to clean up the mess, he would find a cherub with a bow and arrow in the ashes.

The idea of having friends bothered him. It had been far too long and he wasn't sure if he could stomach the idea of having them taken away, but dealing with Nikita had made him realize it was worth the risk, He was a good guy, after all. He told himself, if he were made to do things that would hurt them, he would find a way to make up for it.

Michael had stopped her on the training floor. No matter how engrossed he was with Division business or his own personal baggage, he couldn't deny how beautiful she was. She would take his breath away when he least expected it, like now. He mentally chastised himself for even going there.

"Are you reporting to Roan in Munitions?" He asked politely. They both knew she was and the question seemed without merit.

"Yes, I came in early to ask Birkhoff about something." She answered him vaguely.

Michael stared at her with hard eyes. "About what?"

She stared back. "Why are you asking?"

He folded his arms at her and the tension in his face grew. "Just curious, but let me give you a word of advice, if you're hiding anything, don't take others down with you."

Nikita felt more than a prickle of annoyance. "Someone should have told me that before I started working with you."

Michael grit his teeth. He looked around and realized they were in full view of the recruits and Operations. "I need a word in private."

"Can't it wait, I don't want to be late." The last thing she wanted was a dressing down from him. When she saw the sparks in his eyes, she knew he meant business and she decided this wasn't a fight worth having.

"All right." She said defiantly, making sure he knew she wasn't caving in to his orders.

Michael led her into an interrogation room and closed the door. He walked over to panel on the wall and flipped a few switches. Nikita knew he had turned off the audio and visual recording equipment in the office.

"What do you want Michael? If this is another speech, you can save it. I get it." Her tone was bitter and angry.

Michael aggressively walked up to her and for a split moment, she thought she should fight him, but the second passed. Instead, she let him slam her against the wall. Her heart hammered in her chest, when he planted his hands on either side of her.

She couldn't look him in the eye. There was far too much that had happened between them, and she didn't know if she had it in her, to face off with him, yet again.

"Nikita." He said in his dark raspy voice. "I don't want to loose you."

She was shocked at his words and when she did meet his eyes, she saw they smoldered with intent. Michael leaned down and whispered her name before his hands cupped her face and his lips found their way onto hers. The kiss he gave her was slow, loving and sensuous. When she responded, they moaned breathlessly together.

"Michael…" She murmured as they continued to kiss each other. Their lips had opened and they turned their heads slightly this way and that way to explore and sink into each other. It was a slow tortuous dance, their tongues probed and stroked and it was like an accelerant, their senses bursting into flames.

Nikita wound her arms around his neck and when their lips finally parted, he rested his forehead against hers.

"I don't believe in happy endings. I can't look to the future and I can never be the man to make things right, please understand that?" He murmured the words into her ear before pulling her against him.

"Don't say never, don't tell me you can't." But as she said the words, she already knew they wouldn't make a difference. He was Michael and she was Nikita and nothing they said to each other could change that.

* * *

Nikita walked the streets toward her apartment, lost in thought. She had left Division after being briefed on their next mission. It was ugly, no one could convince her otherwise, but somehow the anger she might normally feel was tempered with sorrow. She responded to Roan's blanket explanation of who they were dealing with and what their objective was, with reservations and anxiousness. A family, something she would never have herself, and she would be part of destroying it.

Ruminating over it only made her feel worse. Kelly had once told her not to go there, not to try and make sense of it. These missions they were sent on were part of a much larger picture, one that no one could see until much later. Her part in it was to follow orders, the alternative was to die, and that was a total waste. It was better to be the best agent she could, while she could, because it was inevitable, someday some other recruit would take her place. She had taken that advice to heart because she wasn't ready to die.

She wanted to live and to love, and be loved. She wanted to know what happiness was and what a future felt like. She thought about the feel of Michael's lips on hers, the desperate kiss they shared and the hunger they both felt and it made her ache. Maybe it was time to give it up, maybe loving him was a mistake.

A pair of kids, ran out of a store and startled her out of her head and back into reality. They were laughing and making exaggerated and funny noises under the latex masks they wore. She thought how comical they looked, one was a pig, the other a rabbit and as they snorted and hopped down the street she was reminded it was Halloween.

Tomorrow would be November and she would leave with a team to Russia. The mission parameters had been set and the op had been named. Operation Pale Fire.


	12. November

She was quite demure in stature, but Amanda made every room she occupied seem smaller. Her questions were saturated with suspicion and hostility, and she was determined to catch all of her victims in a lie. Nikita felt the walls inching inward around her, but she kept her composure and answered her without hesitating. She told herself she was being tested, not by the Inquisitor, whose persona was itching to break through, but by her own resolve to do what was right.

They kept secrets in Division. Percy and Amanda would lie to her face without so much as a flicker of regret. She had grown to hate it when Michael would tell her they had their reasons. Now Nikita had her own.

Operation Pale Fire was all about assassination, cancellation or execution depending on who was asking, but the word that summed it up was murder. The estate of Nikolai Udinov had been burned to the ground and he and his family had been slaughtered.

"Your were wearing your gas mask, the house was smoky, it was falling down all around you. Are you sure it was him?" Amanda's stare was like a laser beam boring into her.

 _The strike team converged on the house. Under the cover of night they took out the security guards, the ones who didn't know about the attack, and secured the perimeter. They came into the house with high explosive incendiary bombs to start fires and the two hundred year old house went up in flames. They hunted down the staff and then went after the family._

"Of course I recognized him. The man I killed was Nikolai Udinov." Nikita's voice was steady.

 _She threw a fire bomb canister and through the smoke, she saw Udinov and a young girl running down the upstairs hallway. The girl called out for her mother, her cries were frantic, but her father pulled her into a room and shut the door. Nikita readied her weapon_.

Amanda stood over her. "Did you ever see Udinov's daughter, a girl about twelve or thirteen? Her body has not been found."

"No, I did not." Nikita lied.

 _When she entered the bedroom, her face was hidden by a gas mask. Flames licked around the edges of the room and the smoke was thick. Nikolai Udinov stood in the middle of the room with a gun in his hand. He turned and looked at her before raising his weapon. She had no choice, it was kill or be killed._

"I understand how difficult this was for you." Amanda did her best not to sound condescending, but failed. She picked a piece of lint off of her red power suit.

 _She drew the gas mask off of her face. "Father down." She muttered into the radio transmitter that was clipped to her shoulder._

"Not really. I had my orders, I knew the mission parameters." She said firmly.

 _Nikita heard the screams of fear and the cries that turned into agonizing and choking sobs. The girl was hiding under the bed, her orders were to cancel on sight but when she grabbed her ankles and pulled her out, there was no way she could even entertain the thought of hurting, much less killing her._

"Nikolai Udinov was an enemy, a threat to our national security. Zetrov had grown into a powerful empire, his colleagues had ties to criminal activities and his influence was far reaching." She raised her eyebrows at her.

 _The girl was semi conscious and in shock. Her eyes were blinded by fear and they watered with tears of sorrow and from the thick dark smoke that filled the room. When she tried to catch her breath, smoke filled her lungs and she choked and coughed. Nikita hoisted her over her shoulder and kicked the door open with her foot. She ran down the hall to the back staircase and down the stairs._

Amanda looked down her nose at Nikita, it was in her nature to be suspicious. Her world was filled with deceit. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

 _She found herself in the kitchen and stepped over the body of one of Udinov's security team, before exiting out the door and into the dark night. Behind her, the sound of the house burning, replaced the sound of gunfire. She ran toward the back of the property with the girl in a fireman's hold. When she came to a road, she stood in the center of it and became a human barricade for the car that came toward her._

"No, nothing else." She kept a pleasant but stone-faced expression on her face.

 _The car stopped and she pointed her gun at the driver who stood with his hands up in the air. "This is Nikolai Udinov's daughter."_

"I'm done, however, I've requested that Michael come in and finish this debrief." Her tone was professional, but her motives were not. Amanda pressed a button on the intercom system. "Michael, please come in."

Nikita felt her heart skip a beat. She smiled reassuringly at Amanda, hiding the anxiety she felt. "All right." She said with confidence.

On the surface, the handler and his material seemed calm and in control of their emotions, but underneath the layer of stoicism, Amanda knew another story existed. She knew they were each other's best friend and worst enemy.

"I'll leave you to it." She gave Michael a sly and knowing smile, before walking out of the room.

Michael glared at Nikita and she didn't flinch. Something inside of her had shifted and she grabbed on to a corner of her destiny and had made up her mind to be in control. It seemed the chasm between them might never be bridged and instead of fighting it, she accepted _impasse_ was the name of their dance. Nikita wondered if they would tire of it.

Michael carried a computer tablet and laid it on the table in front of Nikita. He pushed it toward her. "Do you recognize them?" His voice was cold.

The screen contained images of Nikolai & Katia Udinov, a young girl stood between them.

"The man is Nikolai Udinov, I didn't see the other two. Are they his wife and daughter?"

Michael touched the screen and the image changed. She looked down and a box with writing appeared.

We are being monitored. Play along.

"When you left the house, you were off line for almost 15 minutes. Where were you?" He gave her a steely look and was unusually abrupt.

"I had taken my gas mask off in the house to make sure I could I.D. my target. The smoke got to me and I used the back stairway and exited through the kitchen door. It took me a few minutes to get my bearings and clear my head."

He touched the screen again.

We need to argue.

"What if I said I thought you're a liar? What if I told you I know you are hiding something." He was harsh and accusatory.

"You can believe whatever you want, it won't change the facts." She said slowly

Michael grabbed her upper arm and forced her to look at him. "Tell me the truth."

Nikita was shocked at his heavy handedness but shook herself free from his grip. "Go to hell…"

Michael stood over her, his arms crossed in front of him. An angry minute passed between them before he reached down and changed the message. She looked down at the tablet and at an image of Alexandra. He held it up just enough to make sure the video camera on the room could see it.

"Look again. You never saw her?" His tone had lost some of its gruffness.

Nikita looked up at him with a sorrowful look on her face. "I told you, I never saw her. Michael, why won't you believe me?"

Michael set the tablet back on the table and discreetly touched the screen. The look on his face hadn't lost any of its intensity but he had physically backed off.

"You can go."

She got up with a hurt look on her face and she glanced at the tablet before she left the room.

Matt's Grill

Nikita walked out of the room and towards the elevator, refusing to make eye contact with Percy and Amanda as they walked down the hall toward her. Division's power couple smirked as she sailed by and joined Michael in the interrogation room.

"You believe her?" Percy asked Amanda, ignoring the fact that Michael stood in front of them.

Amanda had an intense and far away look on her face as she calculated and analyzed the information. "I believe I do. Michael is the once person she has a problem lying to."

"Then where's the girl's body? I had them sift through every ash and they came up empty." Percy looked at Michael for an answer.

"Amanda's correct. She wouldn't lie to me." So many lies, he thought to himself. "The mission went as planned, but there was chaos inside the house. No one had an accurate count of how many people were actually inside the building. She could have been taken away by one of the staff." He had a challenging look on his face. "You had the Russians clean the scene, they can't be trusted."

Percy looked thoughtful. "Fair enough." He looked over at Amanda. "It won't be necessary to cancel Nikita, agreed?"

She smiled insincerely. "Agreed… for now."

Defiance was a characteristic that Division beat out of you. Compliance is your only option if you want to stay alive. Nikita knew this from her first provisional mission when Victor Han was their target. At the time she had wanted everyone to know how she felt about his assassination. Her need for retribution was all consuming.

It was Birkhoff who had made it clear to her. "Choose your battles carefully, Nikki, not even Michael can save you from them. Once your dead, you've lost."

It had been sage advice and she had realized she would never be free, but there was something inside of her that wouldn't let her free will completely die.

Walking down the street amongst the faceless strangers, she told herself that Operation Pale Fire wouldn't be the last time she would do what was right. Alexandra Udinov would be on her mind for a long time. She would be careful and she would take Nerd's advice to heart. Choose your battles carefully.

Nikita ducked into the restaurant and the waitress winked at her and nodded toward the back of the restaurant. It was between lunch and Happy Hour and the mood inside the pub was subdued. She knew he would be sitting in the corner booth, where no one could peer over his back. She knew he would have a ordered a bottle of Stella Artois and would recite the same old mantra.

She slid into the booth unaware at how both of them had changed.

He gripped the bottle in his hand and looked at her. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

At first, she wasn't quite sure what he meant, but then she realized he was talking about the bruise he had left on her upper arm while being interrogated. "It's okay. Thank you for…"

"…for treating you like a liar?" He looked at her sadly.

"No. For saving me." She tried to smile through her despair.

"I want to protect you, but I won't always be there. I have a job to do and if I have to choose…" He choked on his words and took a drink.

She grimaced with pain. "Don't explain. I know who you are, but you need to understand and to accept who I am."

"Nikita… you're being sent out on a deep cover op. I won't see you for several months. Be careful. It's dangerous, not only for you but the people you'll come in contact with." The next words became a whisper. "What I said wasn't a lie. I don't want to loose you."

She felt her heart breaking apart and wondered if it was possible to ever feel loved again. "I understand."

They looked at each other and for once they were on the same page. This was a battle they had both lost.

~ The End (but the start of something great)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had really good intentions to start and finish this story before the Sept 23 premiere because I knew once the show started, the conflict these two crazy kids feel for each other would take on a different dynamic. I tried, but real life took over.
> 
> I really like the idea that Kelly was Nikita's friend not just a partner in missions. I can't wait until they show the episode to see how that unfolds.
> 
> Cassandra, from the spoilers I've read will be a force to be reckoned with. I just have a feeling… Watch out!
> 
> I hope I was successful in showing how much Nikita had changed within the twelve months that she and Michael worked together. Not only did she become a better agent, but the truth about being involved with Michael was becoming evident. It ain't gonna happen, and Michael's choices, what a dummy!


End file.
